The 'Day to DayZ' Diary of Nick Walden
by nijoh
Summary: Nick Walden had won the lottery, but fate had dealt him a cruel hand. On the day the global pandemic destroyed all that mankind had built for thousands of years, Nick was on holiday in what became known as "Day Z", where the infected became flesh hungry monsters that did not feel pain or die like a normal human. Follow Nick as he wakes up to the zombie apocalypse alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Day 1**

I slowly opened my eyes as salt water lapped against my cheek, I coughed and spluttered in pain as started to realise this wasn't a dream. I tried to stand up but my head started to spin. Memories came flooding back. Fire and screaming as the city burnt. We watched as the chaos unfolded from afar on my yacht. My father; lying on the deck, bleeding heavily. And then... He... Turned. Monsters. That's what they became: beasts, cannibals, zombies. And I had to put him down.

The radio broadcasts had been frequent at first, as we sailed away from civilisation towards the open sea. Me, my wife, my mother, my brother and my brother in-law. After a few weeks, all broadcasts stopped. We were running low on food, and that's when nature dealt the final blow.

All I remember was the storm capsizing the boat, plunging into the ocean, watching helplessly as my family sank deeper and deeper. I grabbed a backpack that appeared buoyant, my wife being swept away into the distance. Before I lost consciousness, the last memory I have was of my wife screaming silently as the water sucked the life out of her.

So cold. I stumbled inland, the night air stinging my skin and my soggy clothes dragging me down. I reached into my backpack and felt a flashlight tucked into the bottom, I found the switch and went to look what else I had. Great I thought; some beans and basic first aid. I found myself at a checkpoint, devoid of life. Soldiers lay on the ground lifeless. Better that way, I thought.

I walked for hours, past derailed trains, small hamlets and industrial parks, all infested with creepers. I felt a glimmer of hope when I approached an airfield, which was swiftly snuffed out when I saw hundreds of dead bodies and tens more standing over them wandering across the plains of the runway. I decided to rest in the air traffic control tower. There was no radio equipment. Does that mean someone looted it? And did they survive? As of yet I am in the dark, literally and emotionally.

**Sunrise.**

Despite a lack of compass, my basic orienteering knowledge told me I was heading east. And the road signs, Hungarian? Russian? I don't know. I surveyed the airstrip, no creepers in view, but they are there, always. In the shadows, despite the silence I knew they were there. And then a distant whirring sound stirred over the hillside. Helicopters, two of them!

They headed towards me, passing overhead, as dozens of creeps came sprinting out, aggravated by the noise but helplessly chasing the helicopters like a cat with a piece string dangling above them. The creepers must of caught sight of me or smelt me (Do they have senses like a dog or something?), and I had to get out of dodge real fast. I made it out, just, the creeps hit me a few times but they didn't break the skin, hopefully that meant I was safe. Am I immune? I am not sure, I don't want to drench myself in their blood to find out either. My hatchet was effective, a blow to their body results in incapacitating them, and a blow to the head means they won't get back up.

I carried on, I had acquired some items in the past six hours, a pistol, some food and soda, a hunting knife, some tools and a camping tent. Despite this, I still did not have a plan, I was following the coast intending to find a military safe zone or some stray survivors, but their was no one, only the creepers.

So I kept walking along a tarmaced road, occasionally seeing a dead corpse of a creeper, or a wrecked car, burnt out lying there like a dead beast. It seems they were trying to rid the place of infection, using any extreme methods they thought might work. I thought to myself;

'I need to find a working vehicle, and fuel; I presume both are going to be in short supply.'

My train of thought abruptly came to a halt when I saw a tower, a skyscraper on the horizon... I had arrived at a city.

Gas Stations, Shops, Churches; all abandoned, derelict. Like an echo of an old world, despite it being a foreign land, I felt nostalgia. I missed the simplest of things, such as tea and biscuits. Is the same shit here happening at home? I hope not, I cannot bear to think of people I care about suffering, it's best I remember them from before the horrors of the past month. I walked into people's homes, ransacked, the walls and floor were stained with dried blood. I found some tinned food and a water canteen. It felt wrong, unnatural taking people's belongings. The house used to be owned by a person, a human being that is probably mindlessly hobbling through the streets looking for fresh meat. I was an intruder, before all this I would be breaking the law, but their wasn't anyone around to defend those laws anymore. That scared me a bit aswell.

I found a crossbow, practiced aiming with it on a few wandering creeps before my arms ached. I felt confident with it, I had not used the pistol yet, but I got to grips with aiming after ten or twelve shots. It allowed me to be quiet, so I stuck to the shadows, the alleys, the crevices of the city. I climbed a fire escape ladder onto a hospital roof to rest and also eat and drink the product of my scavenging.

Whilst I was there I practiced loading bolts into my crossbow and handling my pistol, these were new skills to me. I need to learn them fast or die, speed was everything in a fight to the death.

**Midday.**

I saw a person! I was on the hospital roof surveying the area when I heard gunshots, and a man in the distance ran as a dozen or more zeds chased him like a pack of wolves. He climbed the steps of an apartment building, and they blocked the exit for him as they slowly made their way up the stairwell. I shouted but he did not hear me. So I raised my crossbow I picked up earlier and took down a couple of creeps, but I soon ran out of bolts. I could not help him anymore. All I could was watch him through a window as he ran out of ammo, and then crouched in the corner waiting for his demise... I could not watch no more.

Once the horde dispersed I crept over there and went to his body... What was left of it anyway. I took a map from his bag, hoping I kind work out how to get out of this shithole. I also found this empty notebook on his person, of which I am writing down everything I do right now, hoping it will keep me sane. I looked in his wallet, at a photo of him and his family in a now distant world. I hope my family drowned, as sick as that might sound, I do not want them to end up like the man, and if I am to survive I have to steer away from those sort of thoughts. I barricaded the door with some metal brackets so he could lay in peace and left the area.

The choppers passed over again; twice, back and forth. On each pass the creeps were stirred, I had to hide in a shed because of the amount of creepers outside. A man had jumped out of the chopper and parachuted down, descending below the rooftops in the distance behind me. These

people were serious. But I did not know whether they were military or not. I don't want to run up to them with my arms waving about for them kill me thinking I was infected. So I rested until the evening in the dank mouldy shed, and that's when the city became hell.

**Sunset.**

The monsters, they must of smelt me again, I barely escaped out of the shed. I ran into the city centre. A stupid idea, there were hundreds of them, and a lot of them turned to face me. My subconscious must have taken control of my body for a minute, the next thing I know I am in the nearby hotel lobby. Getting tired, I checked how many crossbow bolts I had, four. Darkness fell, and I decided to hurl a flare through the doorway, illuminating the silhouettes of the horde outside. A few approached the door, quickly dispatched by a bolt to the head, I was out of arrows. Walking backwards, I tripped over a rifle. It was already loaded and it had ammo to spare. Without hesitation I picked it up.

My mind was screaming at me, just point and shoot! I pulled the trigger. My arms had underestimated the kick of the gun, it wasn't like any air rifle you found at fairground attractions. The bullet smacked into a ceiling tile, which glanced a creep on the shoulder. It ignored the tile and continued to advance. I readied myself for a second shot, which punched cleanly through his face and erupted blood everywhere.

The noise echoed, I remember thinking that for every zombie I downed with a shot, another ten will be attracted by the noise. That's how loud it was. The next couple of creeps were still a few feet away. And between me and the approaching creeps ,on the dead infected soldier I had shot, was a frag grenade clipped to his belt.

I managed to grab it without the creeps inflicting to much pain, they lash out pretty hard, but can't break the skin easily without the use of their nails. I have no military experience, my shots so far had been lucky and at close range. I looked down at the grenade, it was my only weapon to hand as my pistol was still in my bag.

(Note to self: Find some sticky tape so I can fix my flashlight onto my gun, or perhaps clip it to my shoulder strap?)

I hadn't prepared myself for the grenade, the adrenaline forced me to pull the pin before I could consider using it or not, I threw it over the heads of the infected mob and into the square. The next minute went by before my eyes, my ears were burning, every sound was muffled. A lot of the creeps were now laying on the glass soaked floor, and the surviving creeps must have forgotten about me, for they were wandering aimlessly towards the doorway again like goldfish. Dust settled, the footsteps slipped off into the darkness, and I was still alive.

I couldn't go out there, but I couldn't stay in the hotel lobby either, so I picked up a crowbar, and forced the elevator doors open, climbed up into the hatch and sat down. The most notable thing I done, something I hadn't done for a long time, was breath a sigh of relief...


	2. Chapter 2

**Day Two.**

Today I left the city. It was dead quiet, and in no time I reached the outskirts and filled my quiver with crossbow bolts. Before I left I had formed some sort of plan. From the map, I discovered I was in a region called South Zagoria, and that it was in a place called Chernarus, I haven't got a clue whether I am spelling these right as this Eastern European language is totally foreign. I still don't know what country I am in, apart from that it is on the Green Sea, so it could be Russia or one of the more western former Soviet countries.

My plan, for it could take a long time, is to find the military. There must be a quarantine zone, or at least some resistance holding out against the zombies. I believe the helicopter was evidence of this. If they are welcoming, then it could increase my chances of survival tenfold. By the power of deduction I figured I was leaving the largest town in the region behind, Chernogorsk. I am now following the coastline east to find the next town, Elektrozavodosk. And in the worst case scenario of not finding any sign of life, then I will go to the next most developed town or military installation.

The weather looked like it was going to stay dry, there were few clouds in the sky, and the temperature was slowly being cranked up the longer I walked. My canteen was empty, my throat was burning and the barns and farms did not yield any supplies, so I entered the forest for shade. And whether by luck or divine intervention, I found a reservoir.

**Sunset.**

The area was clear of creeps for now, so I have set up my tent, collected as much water as I can and built a campfire. Night has arrived. But I have not got much sleep, I couldn't close my eyes without the fear of one of them watching me from afar like some predator. The breeze shook the trees, and the wind itself was like the distant groan of an infected man. So I sat there, staring into the black.

**Day Three**

I walked for what must have been an hour. My watch has stopped; I'm surprised it survived the deep ocean water as I was washed up from the Green Sea. This is my third day today in this barren wasteland. I passed a lighthouse; I passed solitary homes standing tall on the coastline, and with infected who must be its former owners. I put them down. Running out of bolts now, as well as food and clean water. My legs were aching, my head pounding from the lack of sleep but my hands gripped firmly on my weapon.

The coastal road run south around a hill, and as I turned the cornered I saw the next town in the distance among the morning fog. Elektroz... Elektrova... Fuck it; I'll just call it Elektro, easier to remember. I quickened my pace, having your goal in sight is a good motivation. Especially when you have nothing else to distract yourself with. I was on the fringes of the town when a small pack of creeps, much like wolves, ambushed me. They were pretty fast, and I had to jump into a nearby barn for safety. I collapsed under the strain on my legs, killed one oncoming creep with a bolt to the head, and grabbed the pistol from my belt. Not enough time to reload my crossbow, one day something like that will be the death of me.

This was the first time I had properly used the pistol, I missed the first two shots, but the last four infected were dispatched in quick succession with last of the bullets. Before I knew they were dead, I just keep pressing the trigger, the only thing sound being the click click click of the hammer of the gun. I stared at the pistol, trying to work out how to reload it when another zombie came through the doorway. I distinctly remember the fear I had as I lay there helpless. I started pushing myself away from him until I hit the wall. His face, contorted in hunger and rage. Dried blood surrounded his lips and his ghostly eyes fixed on me. A few feet away from was a rifle, I clumsily leapt for it, holding it in my hands praying it was loaded. I turned to aim at the zombie. Bang, it collapsed, but I hadn't pulled the trigger. That's when I noticed the man in the doorway.

"I did shout at you, but I don't think you heard. Some of those zombies chasing you heard me though. You can thank me later. The names John." I was in another world; my mind had gone blank as I kept my gaze on the dead zombie. Then I stared at him, a raggedy looking man whose appearance would have been considered like that of a tramp before the outbreak. Maybe that's what I looked like? I hadn't looked in a mirror for weeks.

We rested in the barn for awhile; I told him how I got here. I asked him about the military and whether there were any safe zones. He told me the military collapsed pretty quickly, and that survivors, if there were any, were scattered. He mentioned about a camp to the north, but he couldn't confirm its existence as he hadn't been there yet. He came to Elektro to meet up with his friend, his name was Frank or something and I am told he had a working truck. He told me there were still plenty of supplies in the larger towns, as they were closely guarded by its resident hordes, they were too dangerous to grab for the lone scavenger. John intended to get those supplies.

So we paired up, '_at least that way I double my chance of survival_' I remember thinking. I kept the rifle in my hand; it looked like it was the property of the barns owner. Reminded me of those guns you see in the old Western movies. Shells were scattered around the barn, plenty of ammunition to dispatch a mob, including the vast amount of misses I am bound to have. John was just as experienced with guns as me, I couldn't quite place his accent, but he wasn't British, and his surname hinted at that as well. He showed me how to reload my weapons, and gave me a can of food to keep my strength up.

That strength came in handy when we entered the town centre; the buildings took a heavy beating, either from military efforts to prevent the spread of the infection or even rioting. We kept our voices to a whisper as we walked through the corridors of a school. I couldn't help but think of the children that were here, and whether they survived. Thankfully I had yet to see an infected child, but John did not care to elaborate his experiences with the infected, I didn't dare imagine what was like. He mentioned he had lost his family, and asked me about mine. I hadn't thought too long about it, I left it at the back of my mind. I had yet to see evidence that they survived, I miss them terribly, but I don't want them to be one these monsters shambling through the empty streets. Dead or alive, I hoped they weren't one of them. If there was any chance I am going to see them again, it will be at the safe zone, where I hope to wait for them to walk through the entrance. John said I can tag along with him, I liked the idea. I don't know when I will see another survivor.

Me and John filled our bags full of supplies, there was a fire station in the town. John explained the military used the building as a headquarters in the early days until it was overrun. He said there were still guns left in the building, but I never got to find out.

Another horde came, what seemed like double of that I saw on my first night, they charged towards. The bloodcurdling screams echoing throughout the concrete jungle. Like a startled deer, I ran for my life, I stole a glance over my shoulder, John was running the over way! There was no way of turning back, I did not know my way around the town and I couldn't risk getting trapped in a corner. I passed the school again, yet more creeps were disturbed and alerted to my presence by the sound of distant gunshots behind me. I did not think about John, I just kept running. The hospital was in front of me, it's front windows smashed, not safe enough from the horde behind me, it's doors to the wards inside locked and barricaded. So I headed for the ladder on the side of the building, and with rifle in hand I climbed awkwardly up to the roof. One lone man followed me up, the ladder proving too challenging for his limited brain capacity. I reach the top, chucked my backpack on the ground and raised my rifle, pointing at the ladder. An arm rose from over the wall and then a head poked out. I pulled the trigger, the head disappeared followed by thump as the corpse landed on the floor.

I had a peek over the edge a while ago, the creeps are still there, albeit calm and quiet. I cannot get down, not until they have left. From up here I can see all of Elektro, the sun is setting. I prayed for John's safety, and my own sanity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day Four**

It was a new day, John never came back. And his friend hadn't arrived either. There were no people, no passing cars, no helicopters overhead, nothing. Just me and them. I needed a plan again, John talked of places in the north where survivors could be, there were lakes, military camps and airports that were most likely where the last of us would hole up. All I can hope for is that these places are real, and also the hope that my family are on the way there too. I dropped my camping tent, it was weighing me down, and the journey ahead seemed too perilous to be sleeping outside.

I've started the trek along the eastern coast, nothing here but small villages, remnants of barricades and broken fortifications that evidently show the people hidden behind them did not make it. I found a couple of cans of food, some bullets for my rifle, and some sitting ducks to practice my shooting on.

There was nothing for a mile at one point, but a stray creep was stumbling along, apparently lost. I put it out of its misery of a long walk.

There is one massive factory up ahead, a big industrial park maybe? I don't think there is much in the way of food, but there has to be a working car, or at least the parts to make one work...

Two words. Jack Shit. Cars were missing wheels, even entire engine blocks. And there weren't enough parts to practically make a new vehicle. There were broken tents lying around, which meant someone already had my idea, not surprising to be honest. It is getting dark, so I am sitting on the roof of the factory, writing under chemlight. Tomorrow I reach another town, another lead. I hope I will find the military there. Ah, that word, Hope. It dwindles every day.

**Day Five**

I am writing this from a large town, I found a US Military camp that called it Berezino, more on that later. I followed the coastal road up without hindrance, I crawled through the industrial district, car parts left outside to rust. There were only scraps of food, of which I desperately need. However, from the roof of a building I caught the glimpse of two supermarkets to the west! Standing between me and my food though was hundred or so creeps. I exited the town so I could circle around and come in from the south, I've learnt a lot in the past couple of days, and that's to not piss off the zeds. My heart lifted when I saw the military camp, and then sank deeper when I saw the soldiers stumbling around, head to toe in fatigues. How did they let themselves get bitten with all that armour and weapons? I weighed up the risk versus rewards of going into the camp.

Rewards: Location of another camp, working radio, military equipment.

Risk: Horrible painful Death as always.

I entered the tents, mostly empty, save for a few body bags and a hungry creep. I left them to their feast, I didn't want to grab the attention of his friends outside. There were dozens around the perimeter, the noise of their groans and their murmurs was grating my ears. If I didn't know better, I would have screamed at them to shut up. God I need to find others, I don't know how much more I can do alone. I found military plans, both the US and Local Military had defended every settlement, every town and every airport.

Berezino must have been one of the last to fall, as there were lots of crosses on many of these bases marked. A man, what looked like a high ranking officer, was sitting upright next to the map, a gaping hole stained with dried blood around his chin. He took the easy option, not one I can bear to do unless my back is truly against the wall. I marked a few locations of interest on my map, seeing as this lead hadn't yielded much. A few settlements in the centre of the region, a large airport to the west, and a military radio tower to the west as well. I grabbed a battered radio of the officer and turned it on, I followed some instructions I found on a note pinned next to the radio tower on the map, and slowly turned the dial towards the frequency. After a few minutes of tinkering around, the most I had produced was the solid crackling sound of static, there was no broadcast on that channel.

The radio had allowed me to distract myself from my dark thoughts. If the military had been overwhelmed, what chance have I got? They were better trained, had better equipment than me, and more people...

The next few hours went really quickly, the radio had stirred the creeps outside. My cover was blown, and I was once again running for my life. But instead of running away, the insane person inside of me that had been growing over the last few days made me run deeper into the town...

I was desperate, for food, and this was the best chance I had at finding a good haul of tinned food. I kicked open the supermarket doors, I didn't have long before the zeds and followed realised where was. I hadn't been discreet in getting to the supermarket, I fired a few stray shots, I don't know if they hit anything as I had already turned and continued running to the first supermarket.

I decided to catch my breath, I could hear multiple footsteps outside. And like a warped carnival parade, they stumbled down the road. I watched them walk past me through the window. The sun was going to set soon, there were a few scraps of food to be found, but I hadn't filled my bag yet.

A couple hundred meters later, after darting from cover to cover, I approached the second store, the congregation of infected loitering outside its doors in the centre of a set of crossroads. They had lost my scent, and I wasn't planning on letting them see it again, especially seeing as I didn't have anywhere to hide.

I entered through the back door, my face contorted in grimace at every creak and screech the rusty hinges made, I jumped through and gently closed the door. It was dark in there, I couldn't use my flashlight in case it disturbed the creeps outside. So I spent the hour scrambling around in the dark, the stale smell of packaged food hung in the air and was choking me out. But in hindsight I prefer the smell of stale food to the odour of rotting flesh. Fortunately there were no dead bodies in there as far as I can tell. They must have got up and walked out weeks ago. I've struck gold here, I haven't had so many supplies since before the infection.

I heard more footsteps outside, growing fainter and fainter minute by minute. I decided it was time to get a glow stick out, I couldn't see anything. I made a tragic mistake. I was naive and hasty in thinking all the zombies had left, as I looked up at the window I saw the vast silhouettes of infected outside, my dried throat made a small whimper and I jumped back startled. They heard that. I know they did, they approached the front doors, five of them, pushing them open with the weight of their bodies. I got my head together, I was panting heavily with anxiety, I kept low, keeping the shelves between me and them.

My only option was the back door. An empty whiskey bottle lay on the floor beside me. I lobbed it over the shelf, it clattered with a pile of empty cans and smashed, the clinking of glass echoing in the silence. It brought more creeps in from outside, but distracted the five already in here. I made a break for the fish counter, crept around it and made my way out the back. Behind the supermarket was a small overgrown courtyard, it was dark though, and I was using my memory to recall how it looked a few hours ago. If I remember there was a small tunnel, and then across I remember seeing a wrecked military jeep lying outside a cafe sitting on the street corner, its red door ajar. That was my only option.

It's where I am writing today's entry. I cobbled together a barricade using the table and chairs. Pulled the curtains over the windows, and I am now hiding in the bathroom, which is all enclosed, no windows, no chance of being found or heard. I found a candle I can light, I set it on the sink and sat down on the floor next to the toilet. I soon got comfortable despite the unusual location, I felt safe I guess. I'm ready to sleep now, but my dark thoughts were keeping me awake. And then I realised why the military died back at the camp. They died because they grouped together, they sat there, they were doomed from the start. Here I was alone, I realised that can be considered both a strength and a hindrance. Today it saved me, but in the days beyond it may be my downfall.


	4. Chapter 4

**This journal entry page is dotted with small drops of water (teardrops perhaps), some ink is smudged but still readable**

**Day Six**

If you are reading this, then these could be my last words, well I guess any day could be, but I am in a forest west of Berezino, the town I just barely escaped. A creep had entered the cafe I was hiding in overnight. He ambushed me, sinking his teeth into the sleeve of my leather jacket, his arms continuing to flail and hit me. A right hook from the monster connected with my head... Sorry, I can't believe I compared this fucking creep to a boxer. Anyway, I wrenched free, reached my pistol on my belt and shot. Again, and again and again until its head was a bloody pulp, I looked up to see a mirror on the wall, I didn't look at it for long, but remember thinking 'What a wreck.' Blood was seeping from a cut on the side of my head, caused by the bony knuckles of the infected on the floor. Those shots had stirred a sleeping horde; I had to escape, quickly.

I lost the mob chasing the sounds pretty quickly, the challenge was getting out quietly and unseen. I stuck to the gardens, the alleys and the dark corners the sunlight had not yet penetrated. I reached the fringes of town and arrived at the edge of the woods. I kept on running deeper and deeper into the forest until I ran out of energy. Then I remembered the bastard bit me... I pulled up the sleeve of the leather jacket, there was bruising, but the skin or the jacket wasn't broken, I think I was safe. The cut on my head was another matter. Weeks ago whilst I was on the boat I had heard of stories over the radio of people getting infected without bites, through the infector's own blood entering the body. I didn't even know how long it took for a person to turn, for my father it was a couple of hours, I can't remember exactly how long. I opened my water canteen, dipped some toilet roll with the water (down to 3 sheets left, need more or I will have to resort to going commando and using tree bark) and dabbed the cut to clean. I used my only plaster left to cover the cut (I've been using them to prevent and treat sores / cuts from handling my tools), the stinging sensation was sadistically welcoming.

It was only now I realised I was lost in the woods, I didn't have any way of knowing exactly where I was. Looking at the map, I can head west and I should reach a dirt road eventually, and from there I should have a better chance of locating where I am.

I remembered why I am here today walking through the forest that someone else reading this will not know. I had won the lottery back home in England, well over a year ago now. I quit my boring office job and bought the yacht that me and my father had dreamt of since my childhood. God. Our family weekend trips to Southend seem like a lifetime ago now. I would trade everything to be 10 years old again. I have reached a dilemma about fate and destiny, is this the price I pay for spending a year having an extravagant lifestyle? Considering what has happened, can winning the lottery be called a bit of good luck?

That money is useless now, trapped in a bank account that can't be accessed. And even then it's value is now the same as ordinary paper. If I never had bought that stupid yacht, if I had not won the god damn lottery, I would be at home. And although I could have easily died from the apocalypse back home, at least I would have been surrounded by family and friends. And my wife, 2 months pregnant would not have drowned.

I found the dirt trail, this country is host to a beautiful forest, and extraordinarily some of the wildlife is thriving still. The odd deer prancing about, rabbits speeding off through the grass. Before the apocalypse, I would have come on holiday here. After a short rest, I went on to pass two towns, both overrun, nothing eye-catching. I avoided them, I have a weeks' worth of food and drink at a stretch so I can high tail it to the north-western airport via the central farming towns that may contain the military. Tonight might be colder than usual, or maybe it's me feeling weaker, I don't know. I've founded an abandoned petrol station, one lone zombie (they wore the petrol stations uniforms, poor guy died doing their job) finished silently with a hatchet to the back of the head.

There is a sign above me where I am sitting, 'No Fuel' and evidence of a fight, against who I am not sure, but there aren't any bodies around. The locals must have got desperate and scrambled for the last drops of fuel, it is probably why there are many cars just lying in the road, many just ran out of gas and ran for the hills. It seems no one made it out. Despite the ridiculousness of the notion, I have this sinking feeling that those creeps from Berezino might still be chasing me. When does one of these things give up the scent of prey? Would they walk for miles and weeks like birds migrate for winter? All these questions, and never any answers. The one vital question I aim to answer still stands. Is anyone out there?

**Day Seven**

I was unable to write this morning, I overslept! I'm fucking pissed, I have wasted three hours, today I am heading further west, I am so close to the central towns now, the roads signs telling me it is only 1 km away...

** The next paragraph you read is hastily scrawled, but you can still make out the words. **

_I am writing this atop a hill overlooking the first town, what I see before me is shocking. A helicopter, on fire. Plumes of smoke rising from the crashed wreck embedded in the ground. Fresh explosions are going off every ten minutes or so as some more fuel is ignited. Most of the crew seemed to have survived the crash, for all the wrong reasons. Their infected bodies stumbled across the field, as if nothing had happened. And to my curiousity, strewn across the ground were boxes, crates. Possibly supplies._

Well I got out of there quickly, it took me half an hour to crawl over to it. I flinched at every bang, I felt vulnerable following yesterday's challenges. But I urgently needed medical supplies, the hits over the past few days and the journey so far had taken a toll on my limbs, and I was in agony.

The crew had wandered off once I reached the supplies, there were some bandages, some food and painkillers, of which I took as much as I could carry. I looked down at my watch, well one I had found anyway, I still have 6 hours or so before nightfall. I also realised what day it is today. I've been here one week, it's depressing really. I've barely scraped by, and there are (dreadfully) many more weeks to come. I'm heading towards the next town now.

Tents. A couple dozen of them layer out in a line, one or two creeps dotted the compound, dormant. I descended my safe hilltop into the vipers nest below. Like the Berezino base, the results were enlightening, rows and rows of bodies were laid out in open space, quarantine paraphernalia littered the compound. No sign of the base being attacked, from the outside anyway. The barbed wire fences and the entrances were still intact, but the tents were damaged, and the inhabitants obviously dead. I found a smoke grenade in one tent, but not much in the way of supplies I could carry.

Dusk was approaching as I neared the end of the dirt road leading to the airfield. It took a good hour long trek to get, including a rest and wash in a lake. I didn't realise how dirty my clothes were, it's unfortunate I couldn't take a proper bath in it, the last place I want to die is sitting naked in a lake. But even dirty stagnant water was welcoming after a week sleeping rough. I followed the tall perimeter wall around to the gated entrance, manned by a security guard facing away from me.

Rifle slung around my chest I pulled the gate open as quietly as possible and entered the booth with a hatchet. I struck him down, his infected groans dissipating after I pierced the skull. I wrenched the hatchet out with my foot and carried on down the road towards some large aircraft hangers.

Loitering on the runway were a large mob of creeps, military and civilian garb. Looks like these survivors didn't survive. It seems these headquarters were overwhelmed with people, and they couldn't sustain it. And it seems the infrastructure couldn't protect them either. I entered each hanger, checking for any supplies amongst the litter. They were devoid of aircraft, most likely already in far off countries, or scattered around the country much like the crash site from earlier. I kept low and near the bushes and grass. Across the runway is the air traffic control tower, it's entrance barred with giant concrete slabs, completely shutting of the door for intruders. And also anyone inside.

I'm sitting in the fire station overlooking the air traffic control tower, the stars twinkling above as always, unaffected light years away from us. The control tower has a ladder on the side of the building, maybe the people inside escaped. Well some of them. I can't see a great deal, but there are bodies in there.

Overall I have been left disheartened over the past week. This eventuality was always in the back of my mind, but I clung on to the fact that there are people out there, that both me and my family have a chance at survival. But I don't think there is anyone anymore, it's silent. Or the survivors are doing a bloody great job of being silent, the only place I haven't checked is deep in the forests. Civilisation has truly fallen. Too much has happened. All I can do is get as much sleep as I can and decide where to head tomorrow. I bet my nightmares will involve forests now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day Eight**

The creeps had grown in numbers whilst I slept, as I clambered down the metal steps, they drew closer and closer to the fire station. Once on the ground floor I went over to a large red garage door, and opened it a crack, enough to peak out. The whole fucking world seemed to be out there. I had but one option, to test the smoke grenade I picked up yesterday. I opened the door wider, grenade in hand, making sure they didn't see me. I readied myself to throw and make a swift exit; I had to make it count. It said six seconds release. I held my breath, pulled the pin and lobbed it across the runaway.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I didn't get to see it in action much, as soon as it billowed out red smoke the swathes of infected screamed in unison and rampaged towards like it a herd of wildebeest. I sprinted in the opposite direction, reached the corner of a shed and manage to glance over my shoulder. Creeps. Lots of them standing in the smoke, waving their arms about as if they are attempting to attack ghosts. They were growing agitated, and I knew that smoke won't last forever, I made my way onwards, passing dishevelled army barracks and factories on my way, any evidence of survivors wiped clean with destruction and rotting corpses. Luckily these corpses weren't walking around.

I was heading for a small enclave of trees that breached the perimeter wall, noticing a human sized crawl space at the bottom. It must be how this place fell to the plague. The military held the gates, but the crumbling base had weak spots, and somehow the zombies exploited that. That was the least of my worries, the damage has been done. I slid my backpack under, then my rifle. As I went through myself, I felt a tug at my leg, and then a large bony fist landing on the back of my knee. I grunted in pain, startled I twisted around to see a fucking creep, its large bloodshot eyes staring at me, it started snapping its jaw. I didn't have long to act and my weapons were out of reach. I planted my other foot on its forehead repeatedly, thrashing away to free myself. After a short groan it returned my leg intact, but continued to pursue. I stood up and backed off with my gear on my back. My sights pointed firmly between his eyes. Then I noticed the creep did not stand, then I noticed his deformed legs. Dislocated and broken. Poor soul cannot feel pain, but still has the desire to hunt despite his impediment. I walked off, not wanting to grab any attention from the hundreds of zombies behind the wall. My leg twinged in pain, another bruise to add to my collection, I came within inches of being infected, I need to be more bloody careful in future.

I have walked for miles, and miles. Just woodland and fields. I passed some wooden watch towers, they provided me with some more painkillers. I found a dirt trail leading south and west, so I am following that for now. I found houses alone out here, north of the airfield it seems quiet. I came across the ruins of a house, destroyed my fire and explosion, the ash covered everything. It was sad really, only one wall stood, a family cracked photo frame hung on that wall, the picture hidden behind fractures and dust.

I am resting every hour now, the last few days have taken their toll. And I have yet to find any adequate shelter for tonight. I joined up with a main road, passing road signs counting down the distance to civilisation. Today has been strange, usually when I walk I am on edge, my eyes checking around me for creeps or anything of interest. But today my mind wandering. Minutes became hours and the sun was setting. I circled the edge of a town, not wanting to disturb the locals. And there in the distance, nestled on the edge of the tree line was a barn.

I got nearer to realise it was a cow shed. Beggars can't be choosers. I closed the doors, having to bear the hint of cow manure in the air. Thankfully the windows were broken so I didn't suffocate from the smell. I shut the doors and lowered the massive wooden plank to stop the doors opening, no one was getting in now.

It was difficult to find a clean spot to sit, the floor was covered in dry mud and dirt, at least I hope it is mud. Darkness fell and I sat there pondering, rifle in my lap pointed toward the door for safety, I wasn't taking any more chances. After all the other places had failed to provide safety, I was helpless, lost. I doubt there are any military camps left alive, and my belief in there being other survivors is thinning day by day. I checked my bag to see what I had left in the way of supplies. Before I even opened it I knew it was a little on the light side. I had to hope there was food out there. Tomorrow was going to prove just as difficult as any other day.

**Day Nine**

THUMP. It's what signalled the ninth day, and scared the hell out of me. I jumped up from the floor and opened my eyes to a creep glaring at me through the broken window, shredding its arm on the broken glass, all the while he just stared at me with those hungry dark eyes. The wooden door bulged and contracted as others attempted to break in. I don't know what provoked them, but I had to get out of here fast. I ran over to the window, shoved the barrel of my rifle into the creeps face and projected his cranium across the farm. My conscience then went on to shout at me as I lifted the bar off the wooden doors and pulled them open. Two zeds, three shots took them down, my first was rushed and it dinged off something metal behind the target, I couldn't calm myself down and my shoulder, not being fully awake, did not hold against the kickback. The creeps dropped to the floor, but still I pulled the trigger again. Fortunately I had already run out of rounds in the chamber, and went on to reload my rifle. That was when I noticed my hands were shaking. It all happened so fast.

I left the farm as quick as I could and headed straight into woodland, to my right is the edge of the tree line, and just beyond that is a road that leads to a town called Putoshka (?). Yes Putoshka, well that's what the previous owner of this map called it anyway. For all I know that could translate to 'Danger!'. But equally it could also mean 'Survivors Camp'.

I just left Putoshka, with nothing but fewer bullets. Place seemed untouched since the initial outbreak. It seems people escaped the town, well that's the optimistic way of looking at it. There weren't too many creeps roaming about, I checked a house, and unlike many houses I have rummaged through, it didn't have any family mementos. No photos, no sentimental objects. It seems the owners packed everything but the kitchen sink. Maybe they got. Maybe there is hope after all?

Poignant moments aside, I finished my last can of beans just now. It was the can I was dreading eating. And rightly so, it took a lot of coke to wash the taste out of my mouth. I would rather die than eat another can of that shit again. I would kill for a three course meal right now.

_This is me quickly writing what I see before me. A lonesome goat walking in the open field. I've been watching it for five minutes now. Grazing, laying down in the grass as if the apocalypse isn't actually happening. I don't think the creeps hunt animals, although I think that it due to the animal being too fast and agile for them. It is the middle of the afternoon now, almost evening. I needed food, and sadly for the goat I'm desperate. I wanted to do it swift and clean. A shot to the head sufficed, I spun around to check for any wanderers that may have heard the shot, I don't want them biting me whilst I proceed to dissect the goat._

Finished. It wasn't the most pleasant experience, but when you have seen dead creeps and rotting corpse it pales in comparison. I've never had to gut an animal before, and I still felt a little nauseated. The closest experience I have was catching fish with my father, on holidays in the Lake District. Each trip we would take the biggest fish we caught, and he taught me how to gut it once.

Using my hunting knife, I took as much meat off the bone as I could, until I was left with four fairly evenly sized portions of mutton, not as find as the what the local butcher could do, but it looked edible once cooked. I wrapped them in some cloth from a spare set of clothes (thanks to a resident of Putoshka, although they weren't my size.)

I retreated into the forest like some prehistoric hunter, set up a fireplace with some discarded branches. I lit, blew into the base of the fire and sat back to wait for the flame to build. At least watching TV paid off in the end, I thought. Once I was comfortable against a tree trunk I got the meat out of my bag. I had two tin cans, one helped me boil water over a campfire, and the other was the last can of disgusting food I had, now cleaned out. I chopped some of the meat up in smaller chunks and placed it into the can. It took the best part of an hour to cook, and was gone within ten minutes. Before the apocalypse I would not have enjoyed this meal, but after a week of eating canned food, running for miles and fighting bloodthirsty Eastern Europeans, you would eat anything. And now I had learnt how to cook it, I knew I could improve, the food can only get better.

Was this what will happen to humanity now? We had advanced so far in the past fifty years, but we have to rewind back thousands to where we were savages. I passed on the thought of survivors out there more dangerous than the infected. I did not want to think about it. It is safe to relax out here, but I dare not close my eyes.

It is starting to get dark, there was a farmhouse on the other side of the open field I can rest in, so that is what I will do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day Nine** _(continued)_

I approached the barn, it was quiet save for a few creeps. I rested my gun against a door and pulled out my hatchet, picking the creeps off, one by one. They can't seem to see during the night, or maybe they were resting? Once the barn was empty, I sifted through the drawers and cupboards for supplies before sitting down ready to go to sleep. I am writing this entry in some very comfy hay...

I just heard a car... No. Two cars... If these are my last words, then you can assume how I died.

Scratch that, these are not my last minutes. Things happened very quickly, and I am now sitting next to a man as he drives a Jeep down a bumpy dirt road. His name is Davie, and he and his friend in the old rusty saloon car in front are pleasant people. I feel rather silly, they brought a dozen zeds with them down the road, and I dropped to the floor, praying neither them nor the creeps saw me. Both did, but fortunately Davie was willing to open the door for me.

They are heading to a large town called Zelenogorsk, the home of a large supermarket said to still have supplies. They have met many survivors in the past weeks, some made it out. Many didn't. He mentioned camps, but it seems they had been empty when he and his friend arrived. I've had the same experience. People who stay in one place die quickly. Davie appeared trustworthy, he rarely changed expression, eyes transfixed on the road. He looked like he had seen a lot. He praised me for not shooting him, something that left me puzzled, he sounded like he had been shot at before.

Davie has dropped me off at a supermarket, told me to grab everything I can and wait there whilst he returns to his friend. So I did just that, although I am reluctant to ever eat canned food again, I'll take what I can get. I lit some flares in the car park so I can see. Ten minutes later the car engines returned.

Davies friend got out of the car, and Davie wound down his window. 'Say hello to your new car.' His friend made a sweeping arm gesture over the rusty blue saloon.

It surprised me, I was speechless. He went onto to explain it was difficult to fuel both cars, and felt that it would be better off in my hands. He was a commendable man, donating a car to me, a complete stranger. Davie had made it his goal to help the people who needed it, and to those who deserved to survive. They gave me a Jerry can, a submachine gun and some basic supplies.

His warned of people who will take this car by force, and of the danger of the roads. Potholes, debris, creeps. I had passed so much of it but didn't consider the danger it played. We said our goodbyes and parted ways; they headed north, whilst I headed south. I hoped to find survivors, those in need of help like Davie did with me, after all; it's the only chance humanity has left. Now is the wrong time to be selfish. Maybe I will meet Davie and his friend again, I owe them big time.

The car was ancient, it probably left the factory gates before the Queen's coronation. The windscreen was covered in cracks leaking from the corners (I remember imagining a zombie sitting on the bonnet slamming its face into the window, immediately stopping the dream there before I got to anxious). The front right wheel was dodgy, a potential death trap if you ask me, no car could ever beat my old car, a black original Mini Cooper. I thought about it, sitting in the garage of my home in England, and wondered if my house has been looted. Has someone put my car to good use? Will I ever get to see home again? ...

I arrived at the coastline. Full circle, I thought to myself and cracked a small smile as looked into the wing mirror. For once. I knew what I was doing, sort of.

**Day Ten**

The sun rose as I entered Elecktro, I kept on driving through the night, navigating barricades, mowing down any creep in my way. I headed for the docks, recalling the factories on the quay. I drive up the road leading out to sea and parked up next to shipping crane. I needed to rest, there was no way I had the energy to look for car supplies. So I climbed up the crane ladder and perched up in the cabin with a view of the town inland, closed my eyes.

Midday

I woke up at Midday to sound of crashing waves and a cool sea breeze. The sun was gleaming and there was no sound apart from nature. I poked my head out to see if the coast was clear. Nothing. I had dreamt of survivors finding my car and stealing it, of waking up to find a gun pointing at my head. Fortunately the rusty blue, but reliable saloon was where I left, and all its gear as well. I walked to the base of the harbour towards a large oil tank, coated with a thin layer of rust. Soon all everything will rust, even the humble door. I'm going to need a crowbar just to enter a house.

I placed my Jerry can under the tap and released the fuel valve. As it trickled out I took the opportunity to look around, tucked in a storage cupboard I found some engine parts and a tool box. I could now change some the parts and guarantee a week or so of running out of the car. I knew little about cars, I learnt how to replace some parts, mostly out of necessity, as sometimes I didn't have enough money to afford a mechanic. That was a long time ago now, long before I won the lottery too. If I knew the end of the world was going to happen I would've spent my money on a lifetime supply of food and a nuclear bunker. I returned to my jerry can, and waited until it was full to the brim, I'm not coming back for seconds. Slinging the rifle over my shoulder, I carried the fuel back to my car.

As I lugged it back I heard the screams of an infected, I dropped the can by the car and spun 180 degrees, pistol at the ready. But no man was in sight. It screamed again, I followed the sound to the edge of the harbour. I looks down to see a man, wading clumsily in the water, unable to move as he is battered against the side of the wall by wave after wave. I decided against shooting him, I had to conserve ammunition.

I spent a few hours whilst the weather was comfortable to tinker around with the engine, I cleaned out the engine and replaced some components, and rigged some struts to keep the dodgy wheel on straight. I had the radio on, there was a faint radio broadcast on loop from a military camp at Green Mountain, it wasn't too far from where I met Davie yesterday so I should reach it by nightfall. The town is quiet, I haven't heard any gunshots and the creeps haven't stirred (lucky for me), so there's no point waiting around.

I am at Green Mountain; at the base of it anyway, the road lead right over the summit of the hill and back down the other side , with the radio tower at the peak. My car struggled to pull itself up the hill, not sure it would have made it if it wasn't for my repairs. A siren blared out from the large needle that was the radio, it was so loud I could barely hear my car engine.

I didn't enter the compound, it was clear the walls had been breached, the chain link fence was buckled in, with a lot of dead bodies piled up. A last stand happened here. The creeps didn't notice me, they were too engrossed in finding the source of the siren. Maybe someone is there? I couldn't do anything, too many zombies and too few bullets. I descended the hill towards a plane wreck, a massive military cargo plane that had almost carved its way into the hill behind me, its insides scattered across the ground. Amidst the debris was a camp, the fireplace appeared to have burnt out a while ago, and nothing was to be found in any of the tents or boxes. I felt uneasy about staying there so I drove on, parking by the side of the road nestled in some shrubbery. I've collected some water and got into the backseat of my car. I ain't fucking letting this out of my sight, if I die here then so be it. I'll tuck this journal into the glove box or something.

I'm not disappointed by what happened at Green Mountain, when I heard the broadcast it gave me false hope, but I did not count on finding anything there, it's a wasteland now. Maybe I need to start thinking long term, maybe I need to let go of the feeling deep down that my family might be out there.

**Day Eleven**

Eleven days, eleven long days. As I drove through the back roads of Chernarus, I recalled what had happened so far. The horde of Chernogorsk, getting split up with John in Elektro, fleeing from Berezino, the north west airfield. I was lucky to survive those, I had the willpower to do it, but that has been sapped so much. I don't know how much longer I can go on for; I dread the thought of (or worse), but at the same time I am afraid of the challenges yet to come. I've lost so much already.

I have reconnected with the main road, it seems I am heading towards a town that translates to 'Lopatino'. I'm driving straight through, no need to stop... That's where it all changed.

_It is now day twelve or thirteen, I don't know anymore, too weak to keep track... I will try to write it down, if I die then I want you to know how. It all happened at Lopatino._

A ghost town as usual, the houses appeared untouched by the apocalypse from a distance. There was debris around, but you could see imagine what life was like before the outbreak. Peaceful, quaint, safe. I fiddled with the radio, trying to decipher the static coming through. It wasn't Green Mountain, which was an English broadcast made by the UN or some other Western organisation. As I twiddled the knob I heard a brief second of clarity, and the word 'Moskva'. Surely that is Moscow? After a few minutes of Russian an English voice replaced it. It was still unclear what the message was.

"UN stationed at Moscow... safe... survivors... food and water... Come to Moscow." The next few moments went by in an instant, I looked up to see an infected man in the middle of the road, I was startled and swerved the vehicle around him. I still sideswiped him, leaving a large red smear as an autograph. My car continued to speed up the hill and I launched into a concrete blockade at 30 odd miles per hour. That's when everything went black.

**The End?**

I opened my eyes to darkness, welcomed by smoke emanating from the bonnet and through where the windscreen once was. I thought I was blinded until it dawned on me that I had been unconscious for a couple of hours. I was dazed, light headed and weak. I pushed myself into an upright position, wrenching in pain as I noticed the gashes across my torso, my jacket was ripped. I felt shards of glass and metal embedded on the surface of my skin. I was not a doctor, but I couldn't any deep serious wounds. Head, dizzy but the neck was fine. Arms, they were working fine if a little cut and sore. I finished off by cautiously wiggling my toes. I think I can walk, I hope to god I can walk, I remember thinking.

In a normal situation I would be ok. But there was no ambulance coming, and I was in a town of mindless beings whose first instinct would be to rip me apart. I tried to open the driver side to no avail, so I took a deep breath and shimmied my way into the back seat, I grabbed my backpack in one hand and tried the door with the other. It wouldn't budge. I then kicked with my foot against the door, which was buckled by the crumpled frame. It eventually opened with a loud and resounding creak.

Without any grace or dignity, I fell out of the car and onto my knees. A full moon gave me little illumination, but I quickly grabbed my torch from backpack so I could see what I was doing. Realising my pistol was still in the car, I turned to see if I could reach it. The car, already on its last legs when Davie gave it to me, is now a complete write off. The wheels had cracked, the nose of the car had caved in and the engine was still sputtering. Looking back at it, I don't know what happened, the brakes must have failed or I was too slow to react at all. Inside I was angry, I had gone and fucked it up, the shit has well and truly hit the fan.

I felt a warm liquid run down the side of my head, blood. I decided to leave the pistol and the rest of my possessions in the car, my life being more important. I had already made too much noise. Keeping low to the ground, I ran over to a house so I can survey my surroundings. There were a few creeps approaching the rear of the vehicle, curious about the commotion and the engine. The road ahead was empty, so I took the opportunity to run for my life.

I kept on running, not keeping count for how long or how far. With the town now well and truly behind me and slowed the pace, I laid the torch on the floor and tended to the gash on my head. I wrapped a bandage around the matted hair until it was tight against the scalp.

All I could hear was my breath, now increased to a heavy panting as my limbs started to dysfunction in protest. I was walking north, hoping to find shelter or aid eventually. And there on the fringes of visibility was a warehouse, a large building, standing there silently. There were no lights on, and there were not any figures in sight (that doesn't mean they are though, rule 1: always assume there is a zombie around every corner) I desperately needed to find somewhere to rest so I carried on. Sitting by the entrance to the warehouse was a military humvee. It appeared to be in pretty good shape, I clambered inside and tuned in the radio, trying to remember the channel the message was broadcasting on. I gave up after a minute of static, and picked up a map from the dashboard, it was quite detailed, and folded out to reveal a large picture of Russia and the surrounding territories. Chernarus was on the southeast side, near the middle eastern countries of Takistan, whereas Moscow was a long way away, thousands of miles possibly.

I jumped out, and from over the tree line came a bright light, it wasn't a star, or a passing comet. It was much closer... It was heading straight for me.

The helicopter zoomed over my head. I tried to enter the beam of light but I couldn't run at all. I don't think they saw me, the aircraft faded, and the whirr of the engines began to return. Maybe they did see me? I back peddled, waving my arms and shouting. I fell and blacked out.

I opened my eyes to sheer brightness of daylight. Fuck my head hurt. I need to stay awake. A zombie walked in front of me, tripping over my leg, it became aggravated, and that is when it noticed me. I clobbered over the head with my backpack, quickly unzipped it and stood up, Davie's sub machine gun in hand. I slammed the butt of the rifle into its skull and drilled some rounds into its head. One shot would have sufficed but fear had taken over. I ran for the trees.

I need help more than anything. I feel groggy, but my mind was fixated on the long term. I seemed intact in the field, the humvee was gone. I can't stay here forever, I need to seek safety elsewhere, but by leaving does it mean I am giving up on my family? Will I ever find closure? I don't have those answers.

I was at a crucial decision, do I stay and seek out my family, risking my life or a lifetime spent in vain? Or do I detach myself from everything I am and think about the here and now?


	7. Chapter 7

I stared down the long winding road that led deeper into Russia, possibly deeper into a horde of infected. I am not prepared; I am going to die if I push myself. I will leave when I stand a chance of survival. If there is sanctuary out in western Russia, then pray that it will last a couple more months.

_*The turn the page of the journal following Day Eleven to find a blank page, its corners marked with dried blood. On the page is one line of scruffy writing._

_"These have been my darkest hours"..._

_It is unknown why the writer stopped, whether they were too weak or did not have the words to describe it, you turn the page and find another, more completed journal entry,*_

_A few weeks Later..._

_A figure emerges from the forests overlooking the desolate village of Otmel, sporting clean clothes that are clearly mismatched. A pair of red trainers dirtied with mud and dew, navy blue trousers with two stripes down the side of the leg, a grey polyester jacket complete with sewn on salesman's badge, and a baseball cap. The man was Nick Walden, looking healthier than he did after Lopatino, his stern gaze swept over the coast scouting for infected and houses he could scavenge for supplies in, something he had learnt to do since becoming shipwrecked in Chernarus now approximately a month ago. The gaze was slightly different than that of the old Nick Walden, the Nick that had seen happiness and hope. The man standing on was the same man as before, but the things he had experienced in this new word. had made him more detached from reality, an isolation in a forest of silence and shuffling corpses changed his perception of the world slightly. You could say he has 'seen the light', it can also be seen as Nick slowly losing his humanity._

**Day (?)**

I don't know the days anymore. When you don't have a routine, when every day your life is in danger, you come to realise that remembering what day it is both the least and most important thing, because it keeps you sane. It has been somewhere around a fortnight since my last entry, I cannot go into much detail, if any at all. I survived by hunting, I ate meat both raw and cooked, I avoided towns and settlements. Because of this I have had no contact with anyone, it was just me and my campsite. I had run out of rounds for my sub machine gun pretty fast, my hatchet was broken and the blade of my hunting knife dulled, my clothes and backpack became worn and irreparable as well, so I took these clothes from the first wardrobe I found in a strangers house in the middle of nowhere . The trainers are for comfort, the trousers for lightness, the jacket for protection and warmth, and lastly the baseball cap protects me from sunstroke.

I needed tools and supplies if I was going to survive though, which is why I am heading to Elektro, it has taken me a goddamn long time to get here. The place is a ghost town, and what was once rife with useful things is now bare. The supermarket, the floor covered in tins and food a few weeks ago now completely empty save a can of, you guessed it, beans. This was always going to happen, civilisation ran on production, and now production has stopped, if the wildlife didn't appear to be dwindling (or is it they are good at evading me?) then I wouldn't be in this mess right now. As for water in the towns, well it's all dried up, and the supplies of energy drinks are scarce, as well as a little warm on the throat.

I didn't come across any creeps until I was walking down an alley. They had not seen me yet, they were hobbling around. Were the infected drying out and shutting down? Did a zombie ever feel hunger? I wish the answer is yes but I don't think it is, if a creep can't find anything to hunt then it will wait, forever probably.

Gunshots pierced the silence a few blocks away, the creeps stirred, and they caught sight of me straight away.

I darted to the church, shut the doors and pushed against them to try and stop any creeps entering. The mob retaliated and broke through the doors. They advanced on me as I backed up the central aisle. My spun my head looking for supplies, none. At my feet was a Bible, a picture of Christ eerily smiling up at me. I picked it up, disregarded any religious meaning and threw it at the approaching creeps, to which they did not flinch.

Gunshots, closer this time, rang outside on the street. The creeps, almost breathing on my face were funnelling down the aisle, leaving the sides of the church clear, with more entering the doorway. It was now or never. 'God help me...' I ran, no I fucking sprinted for my life, dodging the creeps in the doorway, leaving them swiping thin air. Now on the street, I screamed at the top of my voice for help. And there rushing down the street, was a man, rifle in hand.

I warned him of the creeps inside the church, however I didn't need to, they spilled out like a can of worms, I was helpless as I stood and watched him gun them down in quick succession. I shouted "Behind you!" as a creep attempted to surprise him from behind. A zombie plunged his teeth into the guys shoulder, but a swift stab with the butt of his weapon knocked the zombie to the ground and finished them off. I was quite astounded. How did he survive? Then I noticed his stab proof vest, the only evidence the zombie bit him was a slight dent in the fabric with saliva around the edge. He motioned for me to enter the church with him, of which he swept, looking for supplies. We exchanged names. His name was Arthur and like me, he needed supplies. It looked like he had found a fair bit whereas I was skint; he noticed this as well and asked if I needed anything. 'Just the essentials' I replied.

I was unsure how he would react, was he generous? Or did people have to resort to selfishness now; did the past weeks of self-sufficiency hinder my judgment? To my relief, Arthur chucked a can of sardines my way. He pointed to the top of the fire station and told me there was a pistol up there. We parted ways and I made sure to remember his face, he saved my life, I owe him.

Arthur was very helpful I'll give him that, I picked up the weapon, a modern pistol and 2 clips with approximately 14 rounds in each. I proceeded back down the stairs. And checked some more houses, I found a backpack and a baseball bat among the remaining goods in the houses. I picked up the baseball bat, got a feel for the weight and done a few practice swings for good measure. I would've preferred a hatchet, but this should work just as well on an infecteds' head.

After another hour rummaging through the debris of Elektro and running from mobs of creeps, I headed along on the eastern coast until I reached a small settlement; I headed inland and found a barn. Devoid of everything, I fell to the floor in exhaustion. I will carry on walking into the night; I have to. I was making my way back to the North West airfield, where that air traffic control tower was blocked off. I am hoping, no, I am sure it will have a functional radio in it, and a map of Russia. That way I can plot my journey out of this place and head for the promised safe zone, one step closer to my home. I looked down at my recently acquired digital watch, according to it; it was 26 days since I woke up on the beach. 26 days. Time has flown by.

After some simple calculations and my route was plotted, I believe I should reach the airfield by Sunday at the latest, a three day trek at best and then I need to be prepared to enter the airfield, sneaking into an infested area takes something you cannot pick up anywhere. It takes luck. I do not know what will happen there, writing what could be my final hours is keeping me sane. Ok, enough writing, more walking.


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 27 - Midnight**

It has turned midnight, and I now on Day 27, tomorrow marks 4 weeks on Chernarus, and around two months since the pandemic was triggered. I have started to wonder what state the world is in right now. I wonder if any country has survived the infection, walled off its borders, or if any governments still stand. And what are the chances of Moscow or are one of the surviving areas? They could just be another Chernogorsk or Elektro for all I know.

My legs are aching, if they had a voice then they would screaming across the hills. I had a rough escape from a hamlet not too long ago. I entered the town without fault. But that one creep was lying on the floor, my foot jabbed him in the side and the whole town quickly woke up. From there on I ran like hell, a rusty, but functional looking car was sitting in the middle of the street ahead. I jumped in, infected scraping and gnawing at the windows trying to get in. I started the engine and floored the gas, but the car barely moved an inch! I tried again and again until the zombies tried to force entry. Knowing now when to give up, I climbed into the passenger seat and made a swift exit with all my gear out the door with zombies in tow. Looking back I aimed my pistol to pick off one of the creeps, but the gun was jammed. Fantastic, now the only weapon I have is the baseball bat.

I zigged zagged through the forest, trying to put distance between me and my rampant pursuers. I eventually lost them, for how long I do not know, I found myself on a country road, entering a valley, I pinpointed my position to the west of Tulga, the hamlet I must have been in. With the hint of moonlight I could see two sheer cliff faces either side of me, and down the winding road was scarcely anything. The odd car and accompanying bodies, thankfully not moving. I cast my mind back to the events in Tulga, the darkness must have played tricks on me, and maybe the tires were blown out? The valley then became a tunnel through the rock. Flashlight in hand I proceeded, the further I went, the more frightening it was. The wind was making noises, whistling through the tunnel. Either I was hearing things or there were groans and shrieks of idle infected behind. I revolved on the spot, my heart racing, there was nothing in sight, but doesn't mean they aren't there!

I have to carry on, I have to discard these thoughts and stay focused before I lose my mind. I did not seem to be able to find a spot to camp, I have no tent and the weather hasn't been as warm in the past few weeks. It looks like I will not be stopping anytime soon.

**Day 28**

Sunrise, and despite the occasional break next to a tree, I haven't stopped walking. My willpower is beginning to drain, empty house after empty house, my supplies were dwindling and many places have already been ransacked of its goods. I can't even make a camp fire to keep warm let alone all the food and water I am starting to crave. Will I survive much longer? Heck, will I even be in a state to sneak into a heavily infested airfield?

Another barn, luckily the creeps nearby are preoccupied in the fields, I am not sure what they are doing but it means I can have a rest so I won't argue. Infected bodies were strewn across the floor of the barn. In the corner was a body propped up against a wall, there wasn't a lot left of him for me to go into detail, except the smell was overpowering. He either died of tiredness or a last stand with the creeps, by his side was a wooden rifle, notches were engraved along the side and barrel of the gun . I assume they indicated a kill, during a previous war or against these things was any mans guess. I counted 40 notches, a brave man and was a good shot up until the end. There had to be another dozen zombies in the barn here that were never added on to the total. Across his lap was another rifle, I recognised it as the Winchester rifle I had carried with me a fortnight ago. Not the exact same gun, but the same type of gun, and to my excitement it had plenty of ammo for it.

I took my bloodied baseball bat out of the bag and stuck the notched rifle in there. After a snack of some tinned sardines and Winchester in hand, I left the barn. For last few weeks I have struggled to survive. But the Winchester, despite being an inanimate object, gave me and fresh sense of confidence. It reminded me of what I have been through, surviving countless mobs, a car crash and saved from the brink of starvation. I was alone. I was scared. But I can do this. I will get home...

I sat on the top of a hill to rest my legs. I leant back against a tree and looked the fields towards buildings in the distance. I had to make a detour for supplies, so here I was, Berezino.

Berezino hadn't changed, although I hadn't got to see most of it, last time I was here it was night-time, and the morning after I was running for my life. I recall leaving supplies behind, but there were just things I didn't have room for. But it has disappeared, all of it taken by others. The creeps were wandering about, but they seemed lost in themselves, and conveniently kept out of my way. Until I went deeper.

I was walking along the pavement, hugging the wall with rifle at the ready. One pitiful zombie crawled around the corner of the street, it could do no harm if I steered clear. But then another creep, and another, and a dozen more stumbled down the street ahead. I had nowhere to hide, so I ran. The mob spotted me and immediately gave chase. I entered an alleyway behind the hospital, every second I glanced behind me to check if they were close, my heart was beating so fast and my breath was the only thing I could hear, even drowning the screams out of my pursuers.

I circled around to the front of the hospital, its windows smashed. There was not much on the floor, boxes torn open but still containing a few medical supplies. I raised my rifle at the corner I had just come around, waiting for the first creep to jump out and attack me. The first stumbled along, but I stopped myself from pulling the trigger when I noticed it had lost my scent. I felt compelled to shout out and call it an idiot, but I bit my tongue and continued to watch them walk by.

'_Psst_, hey there.' The man beside me caught me by surprise, but I kept my cool as to not arouse the passing infected. All I could manage was a weak, 'Oh, hello there'. We kept our voices to a quiet whisper.

'My names Ohliver, are there any antibiotics around here?' I waved my gun towards the medical box I just checked. I told him my name and asked him why he needed the antibiotics.

'You think these zombies are clean and disease free? As well as the plague, they also carry numerous viruses and infections, even breathing the same air as them can give you something nasty.' That explained his balaclava, it covered his mouth and nose, and he also wore plastic glasses that must have protected him from stray shrapnel. His eyes, his most distinguishing apart from his humongous machine gun, looked stern and focused. This guy was serious and knew what he was talking about. But he was trustworthy, so I decided to stick by him for a bit, I wanted to get out of Berezino alive.

He wanted to head to the supermarket next, but standing in our way were dozens of zombies, they seemed to be taking an interest in the street outside. Maybe they can hear our whispers? He put his heavy machine gun on the floor and took out his pistol, equipped with a silencer muzzle. He shot one in the head, and it fell to the ground. He shot another, its blood spraying onto the infected behind.

Their little brains were confused, they were trying to find us. I rested my arm onto a chair, aching from hold my Winchester. The chair moved and made a loud shriek sound over the smooth tiled floor. The horde became aggravated.

The next thing I hear is Ohliver shouting 'Time for plan B'. Machine gun in hand, he pulled the trigger and flayed the crowd of zombies, their bodies became mush as he swayed the gun from side to side. They barely made it through the window before they were downed in the hail storm. My ears were bursting at the deafening _dakka dakka_ of Ohliver to my left. A couple creeps were clever enough to enter the hospital from my right (or just blindly approaching from a different angle). I gripped the pistol in both hands and aimed at the head. With four consecutive pulls of the trigger, the two zombies fell to the floor. I couldn't hear my gunshots, overshadowed by the deeper constant roar behind me.

Ohliver stopped. The street was now empty, except for the pile of zombies lying across the pavement. Zombies, I have been trying to avoid that term, these were once people, and the devastation laid in front of me was not a pretty sight. It was us or them though, but I couldn't detach myself from the fact that these were people, and one day, I might see someone I used to know charging towards me lunging for my throat. If that happens, I know I will have to pull the trigger, I guess no one likes that eventuality. That's life.

'We better move, there will be more. Follow me.' More? The very thought of hundreds of incoming infected filled my heart with dread. In the last few minutes we had wiped off about fifty infected, but we had barely scraped the surface.

We ran through gardens and alleys until we reached the supermarket, we had to dispatch a few creeps on the way. I had to keep myself on my toes, I didn't know when the next creep was going to strike. I was down to four rounds in my rifle, I kept the number in my head so I didn't forget to reload when necessary.

The store was empty, as well as the apartments across the street. Returning to the store, we were a given a few minutes breathing space once we noticed a group of creeps had lost our trail and began wandering aimlessly again.

'Shit, I was hoping for supplies' Ohliver said. He explained where he is from, he pointed to the island at the south east of his map.

'A group of us have set up a settlement on Skalisty. That's where I'm going from here, but I was hoping to take back more.' I wished him well and to take care and then we parted ways, I had a goal of my own, and given the lack of supplies here it looked like it was slipping from my grasp.

The island he referred seemed well protected, cut off from the mainland it would be relatively safe from wanderers. That didn't stop the creeps from swimming, if they could remember how to. I won't know if they will survive or not, but I hope they do. Chernarus isn't safe in my eyes (and isn't home), the UN and military are stationed out west, and I believe is my only chance.

I passed a bulletin board, pinned to it were myriad photographs and letters in a variety of languages. All of the pictures showed a time of happiness and hope, but the letters painted the picture of today. People missing, people dead, people eating people. I wish I had a photo of my family, I wish I could pin it to the wall in the vain hope they will come across it. But I had none, I had waited here long enough, all the camps I went to were remnants and shattered dreams. If they are alive, then maybe they will be at Skalisty and Ohliver and his people will take care of them. But I have to assume they are dead, as bad as it sounds, I have to let go.

I left Berezino in the afternoon before things got dangerous. I hiked for another mile or two before I forced myself to rest. The dirt road I was following had ended. In front of me was a steep hill, at its summit was a radio tower and fortifications, as well as the glow from a camp fire. My mind considered all the options, but once I got up there I realised the place was deserted. A former encampment for the survivors, now a graveyard for the dead and the walking.

It was dusk, and once I killed the creeps I was able to walk around without having to be cautious. From this vantage point I could see for miles, and on the edge of the horizon I swear I saw the airfield. Between me and there was thick forest, a castle and a difficult trek, especially during the night. I grabbed a few hours sleep in one of the storage containers which appeared to have made the wall of the camp. This camp is puzzling, it is unique, and the evidence suggested it fell to everything but a zombie attack. The bodies of survivors, charred black. The wall of containers, broken apart and scattered, not the solid wall it was suggested to have once formed. Ditches formed in the ground, explosions? And the vehicles, also burnt out. I could not explain it. It made me uneasy.

I left in a hurry as soon as night fell and headed west down another dirt trail leading to a main road to the north, there was no way I was walking through a forest with only a flashlight to see where I'm going. It would take longer, but would be a hell of a lot safer.

**Day 29**

At roughly 1'o'clock I reached the town of Krasnotav, infested with creeps, it appears they arrived on trucks, possibly escaping from the larger towns on the south coast with help of the military. It caught up with them in the end, poor souls. The creeps loitered around the supermarket, it took five road flares chucked farther down the road to lure them off and give me enough time to sneak in and grab any gear. I wasn't long, I left Krasnotav with nothing but a can of peas and some batteries to show for it.

I went through hamlets and small towns, I couldn't waste any more time and energy rummaging through every house and barn I came across, knowing full well I may come out empty handed. I have reached the last town, the airfield about 800 meters across the field. I ducked into a small barn before any of the creeps saw me, I was tired, the sun was going to rise soon, and I will rest and scout out this town. And tomorrow I will sneak into the airfield.


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 30** - **'A Good Day to Die...'**

I awoke to the sound of a cargo plane roaring overhead, and the distant whir of rotor blades. This was not a dream. I ran out of the barn, ignoring the creep on the floor. It seemed too engrossed in chasing the massive aircraft which had flown past and was now heading out of sight over the trees. What the hell is going on? By the looks of it they dropped some crates, I can see red coloured smoke rising from a nearby field, and I will go and check it out.

I got here, and I'm not the only one, another man arrived. I asked him what was happening, and he just pulled a face that suggested I was living on a different planet to him. He opened the crate. I haven't seen so many weapons before; we are talking about equipment enough for the entire fucking army. He told to take care and to see him later at the airfield, like he knew I was going there. He got on his bike and left me standing there, clueless.

I looked back down at the supply crate, should I take one of the guns? I don't know how to operate them, but I'll give it a go. I took one that looked the most simplest to use, a small presumably Russian sub machine gun and chucked my notched wooden rifle in the box. It magazine were small cylinders, I took as many as I could fit onto my person, noticing the number '64' written on the side. 64 rounds? Small bullets, but if I can aim straight today then that's all that matters. I didn't know what to expect up at the airfield, I felt uneasy. But I had been preparing for weeks to sneak into it again, I need that radio and the map, and nothing will stop me.

What have I got myself into? I arrived at the airfield, two creeps banging on the closed gate. A shot to the back of the head for both calmed them down. I pulled the gate open and cautiously entered, putting away my pistol and raised my rifle so the stock sat comfortably in the shoulder. A quickly scampered along the path leading to the long airstrip, the concrete and tarmac showing signs of stress. Further up the runway was the control tower and next to that were a group of people. A jeep rolled past me at speed as I walked up towards the encampment, my mind was filled with all these thoughts and ideas. 'Why the hell are they here?' I was thinking. To my relief they didn't shoot me on sight, so at least they know who the enemy is.

A pile of creeps lay on the floor, and a man nearby was preparing to set them on fire. I slung my Winchester over my shoulder and put my hand on my holstered pistol, just in case. Some gave me a nod which told me I was welcome, but I still didn't know what was going on. Past the fortifications was a fully fledged base, tents lined the central area cordoned with sandbags around the radio mast, of which two snipers were perched. Trucks were parked to the right, but the drivers stood out, they wore normal clothes, not military gear.

A man walked past me and sat on the top of the sandbag wall. He greeted me and offered a cigarette. I was tempted, but I wasn't going to start that stuff regardless of the shit I have seen, I politely declined.

I started the conversation. 'Nice operation you have here. I was expecting this place to be empty.'

'Nah we all moved in about a day or so ago.'

'Why? As far as I knew this place was empty and overrun.' I kept quiet about the radio I believed to be in the control tower, hoping they hadn't yet entered it. The man gave the exact same look of confusion to me as the man back at the supply drop had. That was when he brought me up to speed, and that is when my heart filled with dread.

**Midday** - **'The Call to War'**

He pointed to his map, a shredded piece of paper that had seen a lot of folding and unfolding compared to my tour guide map. A large thick red line was drawn above the airfield, with three large red arrows pointing south, directly where we were. It seems these creeps, these infected, do not stay in one place. I had seen that for myself in my time here, the odd creep wandering off into the wilderness. But he was talking about a group, a horde of them. I've used the term 'horde' before to describe 30 zombies, but he used the term to describe thousands. An entire cities population, building up and growing exponentially with momentum. It was heading right for us, and they were coming down the northern road, the same fucking road I need to leave this region of Chernarus on if I am going to head west.

I could not walk past the horde, I would not survive, hell I've been fortunate to prevail against 50 creeps. This is a migration; my mind keeps falling back to a picture of geese flying south for winter. Except these geese were difficult to kill, and they would eat me for breakfast. I stood there, I felt defeated. I could not turn back now, but I cannot go forward. My only option is to join the fight, a fight not even the military has been able to win so far. The man, whose name was Andrei, tended to my injuries, the numerous cuts and sores I have collected in my struggle so far. More and people arrived, the helicopter bringing more and more armaments.

Andrei mentioned some remnants of the military committed themselves to ceasing these migrations, and with the help of some Rangers on the ground, were going to hold a defensive line against the horde. My first instinct was that it is a suicide mission, but then again we all have an invisible axe hovering above our heads nowadays, and one day it will fall. My back was truly against the wall, I had no other choice but to stay, how else was I going to be able to use the radio? I needed a good 30 minutes to listen to the airwaves and wait for that transmission, and then with grid coordinates I can plan a route all the way to Moscow. Now I can't do that with creeps running around can I?

More people came; I counted around 70 around the makeshift compound of the airfield. Some spent their time building defences, setting up barbed wire and laying down sandbags. Others loaded weapons onto trucks, putting bullets into magazines. A Russian man, dressed in khaki combat gear and a balaclava approached me. He looked down at my Winchester and in a heavy Russian accent said,

'Do you want a better weapon? We have plenty to go around, and you would stand a better chance.'

'I'll be fine.' I proceed to take sling my Winchester over my shoulder and pulled out my machine gun.

'I have this but I don't know how to use, I'm not a soldier by trade.' He grabbed the rifle, clipped in the magazine and pulled back a catch of some sort, unclipped the cylinder and gave it back to me.

'It's simple, now you do it.' Following his steps I went on to rather clumsily reload the gun.

'Good, you're sorted now, just be sure to reload faster when you have zombies running at you.' With a crack of a smile and nod I thanked him and went on to welcome other civilians. I was not the only non experienced person here, although having survived this long means everyone here has at least some experience fighting these things. An old man walked past, he had to be 50 years old. Sixty even? He was carrying a military grade rifle studded with a variety of attachments, a stark contrast to his ordinary clothes.

An hour had gone by, it was almost time. I had some food, the first proper meal I have had in ages. The food, a leg of lamb was cooked to perfection, and the cooked beans on the side were marvellous. I washed it down with my water, and picked up some energy drinks to take with me. I donated my medical supplies to a doctor at the base who could put them to better use than me. As I done that I heard men signalling that it was time for the briefing, and the mass of people now assembled here began to walk north. I saw Andrei up ahead and caught up with him.

We reached a small camp in the woodland, decorated with camouflage netting and a single table, on which was the battle plans. A man walked up to the front of the crowd of people, whom had formed a vague semicircle. The man introduced himself as Tom Anderson, and went on to outline a 3 stage plan to stop the horde in its tracks. We all listened intently to every detail, but I couldn't help my imagination, I pictured devastation and horrors I haven't truly seen since Athens fell at the start of the outbreak. It was pessimism, but two months of watching society crumble had worn me down to a defeatist attitude. Tom had a presence of authority about him, an odd quality when there was no military or government left, it took courage to stand up and do this. These people, who have been competing over food and resources had banded together, crawling out from their hiding places to take action against the monsters that had ruined their lives. Tom stressed his point on the last stage. We had to hold the airfield no matter what. Otherwise Chernarus would be infested with too many creeps, and the path of my escape would be blocked. We all started to walk to the frontline. I wished Andrei luck and to take care, and even the total strangers around me. This was it.

Ten minutes had passed as we approached the clearing somewhere on a hill, a sandbag wall dotted with large metal tank traps looking north. We were told to set up, to conserve ammo and concentrate our fire. Headshots mattered a lot in this situation. I was shaking, my head was pounding, the only sound I could hear was my heart and the deep breaths I took to try and calm me down. People were arguing as they made preparations to dig in, but it quietened down once they settled focused their attention north. For what seemed like the longest minute there was silence save for a couple of whispers, then the silence was broken. Still out sight was the oncoming horde, all we could were the loud booming groans of hundreds, no, thousands of docile infected. There was no leader of the horde; no particular creep was in front. It was just a wall of infected, obliviously walking towards us through the tree line. I could hear the strict whispers of others around me. 'Hold it. Don't fire. Just wait.'

Then a gunshot rang out somewhere down the line, probably fired out of nerves or anxiety. It didn't matter. The battle had begun.


	10. Chapter 10

**14:15** - **'The First Line'**

Hell had broken loose. A surge of infected sprung out from the tree line towards us, a second smaller fire team was engaging the creeps elsewhere, but now I could not hear how they were faring. The barrage of gunfire erupting from the line was immense, it was affecting my aim. Or was that just the fear kicking in? I was not sure. The creeps were nowhere near close to us, getting to about 30 yards and then falling to the ground riddled with bullets, blood splatter cascaded across the field. A pile of bodies had started amassing, and the creeps were having to climb over their predecessors.

As the machine guns with hundreds of rounds emptied and needed to reload, the endless wave of infected edged closer and closer. I fired my gun at passing creeps, as soon as I confirmed a headshot I swiftly moved onto the next, loading another round and pulling the trigger. Rinse and repeat. It was a tense standoff for what felt like hours but in reality was more like half an hour.

They stopped charging, had we done it? No. The creeps still stumbling through the woods, but they were not near the clearing yet. We had two minutes of calm at best. Team 2 had returned, I heard whispers of trouble up ahead, they lost a guy. That didn't bode well I thought. The first wave was a mere puddle compared to the sea of infected close behind. They caught sight of us and sprinted towards us at extraordinary speed. Everyone was firing at them, some holding the trigger down screaming until their throats turned dry. The creeps began to get too close for comfort.

An infected man, dressed in overalls ran at line, his face contorted in rage. I clipped him in the head with a round from my Winchester, he staggered, but it didn't put him down. It was until the man next to me riddled his torso with rounds that it slammed into the tank trap, pacified. Its hand landed inches from where I knelt, fingers ground down to stumps, and its face. I stared at it as the battle still raged on around me. It looked different from every creep I had seen so far. The virus had made it go beyond discoloured skin, it was actually decaying. And it survived a bullet to the head.

The nearby cry of 'Breach!' brought me back to my senses. Panic ensued along the line, I turned to run. There was a man laying on the floor and knelt over him a creep clawing at his chest. I shot the monster, but there was nothing anyone could do for the guy. People retreated into the woods heading south, some stood valiantly covering the retreat of the others but immediately fell back at the sight of the horde behind.

Trucks were now parked along the dirt trail people jumped, but the drivers were too hasty and started drifting away. I was chasing the last truck down the road; I was practically touching the back. Two men gestured for me to raise my arms, of which they yanked upwards into the flatbed as gained speed.

'Thank you', I shouted over the engine. The man nodded, he looked foreign, but I guess saving a man's life was a universal language. 'There are still others, we need to stop for them!' It would be impossible for the driver to hear me, but that didn't stop it from it being wrong to abandon others and leave them to a fate worse than death.

'Too dangerous, infected would overwhelm us.' I caught someone say in the truck. The convoy sped off, leaving the march of the infected in the woods. We had some breathing space, but the next wave will come.

**15:00** - **'No Man's Land'**

Twenty minutes had passed. We are at the second line now. Tension was increasing in the new line formed at the perimeter wall of the airfield. The broken concrete 10 foot wall a testament to the last horde that penetrated its defences and infested the airfield now behind us. American and Russian voices were flying about as each grew annoyed with the others attitude. The odd straggler came out of the woods, exhausted from a run for their lives. They were taken to the tents, where they get 5 minutes of rest, and then they pushed out to the front line once more to face the threat coming from the forest.

A man dressed in military gear bellowed out for everyone to hear.

'C-130 inbound!' And the military cargo plane from this morning roared overhead, it made a pass. A few minutes later it returned, deployed its flares and dropped a crate from the sky. Its parachute opened it landed in the field between us and the forest. People desperate for ammunition raced to it like a pack of wolves, tore it open and stripped it bare. I had enough ammo still, I used half of my Winchester slugs so far, and I still had the ten SMG cylinders. They loaded their weapons ready for a second wave.

Coughing could be heard among the group. People were getting jumpy and restless. Recalling how close I got to the creeps, I took an antibiotic tablet to reassure myself and the nervous people around me.

The guard post down the road started firing, and the helicopter buzzing above us moved to position closer to the wave approaching from that flank. 'Hold the line, our wave will come soon.' I heard someone shout.

He wasn't lying. The horde was once again within sight, and the men with longer range weapons and scopes starting firing rapidly at them. The gunners in the chopper started discharging their heavy weapons both flanks, raining lead on the infected. They didn't stand a chance. But I knew that the horde had numbers, and were persistent as well.

The creeps started approaching the chain link fence, some falling into the wire mesh, others jumping through the many gaps, and fewer creating their own holes like vermin. They were getting close. A man behind me listened to the radio in his ear. 'Air support in one mike!' One Mike? What's that? I continued firing until they thinned a little bit. My mind was racing, my aim was getting worse and my arms were aching. And then it all when black.

The shriek of the fighter jet tore through the sky, and a moment later a deafening explosion engulfed the entire tree line in fire. The force of the blast knocked me to the ground. I don't how long it took me to get up, but the battle hadn't stopped. And thankfully I wasn't dead. I picked my Winchester off of the floor and began to load more bullets into it. I couldn't focus; the shellshock shook my hands and caused me to drop my bullets all over the ground.

Panicking, I threw my Winchester onto the floor and reached for my other gun in my rucksack. I grabbed it and looked up to see a creep lunge towards me over the sandbag wall, I fell backwards and held the trigger for what felt like an eternity. Time had slowed down and I watched the zombie fall backwards, his fractured skull gushing a fountain of blood over my legs. The man next to me pulled me back up into the fight. The field was thick with infected, coming out of the large wall of smoke where the bombs had struck. The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I regained some focus.

My new gun felt different, but I soon realised short controlled bursts seemed most effective. I heard cries of pain to my right. People on the floor, pleading for morphine from the doctors, who had suddenly been overwhelmed with casualties.

'The gates been breached!' I barely heard over the constant gunfire. I took a step back and jogged down the line, approaching the casualties lying in the grass. A stray creep started running towards the doctor, but fell to a few rounds to the neck and shoulders. I hadn't even realised I had pulled the trigger until the creep landed on the floor in a pile of its blood.

I glanced at the front line, which was beginning to show signs of stress as the fighters started to fall back. One determined man screamed 'We can hold this!' To which the reply of a group of nearby soldiers was "We can't!" My heart was pumping, my head darting around as the creeps entered the perimeter from all sides.

People started fleeing, turning round and shooting, allowing the others to catch up. I sprinted towards the group as they fired all around me. I felt an infected die close to my left in my peripheral vision, its slurring groan halted by the man in front of me with the smoking barrel. I knelt down beside him to survey the area. I raised my gun, finger on the trigger prepared to provide cover. The second defence had been broken.

**15:45** - **'One Last Stand'**

I ran for my life. I ran so fast that I lost sense of my surroundings; I just focused on the control tower. It is after all the reason I am knee deep in this mess. I plucked up the courage to look behind me, there were some men a few feet away, and the creeps weren't to be seen, they must have stopped at the perimeter wall, for now.

"Take positions. We need to hold the compound at all costs; I want people in the fire station and the depot. And get to work on removing the rubble from the control tower; we need to use that as a sniping position and station guards inside to defend them."

As soldiers and civilians alike built a makeshift barricade, I helped some men in removing the rubble from the entrance to the control tower, anxious to get at the equipment inside. I saw a gap in the rubble I could fit through, so I vaulted over and started to clear it from the other side. A few minutes and the group ascended the stairs to the top. There were a few clips lying around which were picked up by some. I looked down at my own gun and estimated I still had 30 rounds left in the cylinder. I climbed the last set of stairs to the control room itself. The monitors, smashed and bloodstained were strewn across the floor. A man sat dead in an office chair, a bite on his arm; and a bullet in his head. I picked up his gun off of the floor, the same model pistol as mine; I unloaded the pistol and took the magazine, only to find it was empty. That explains the dead bodies, I thought, 7 dead zeds lay on the floor which the others started to remove from the building. That left the last bullet for him.

It took me five minutes but I found the radio. I had to touch pick up a dead creep to get it though, bastard was laying right on top of it. The smell made me gag but that was the least of my worries right now. I plugged the radio in, and judging by the escalated commotion outside I would hazard a guess that the horde is bearing down on us pretty quickly. I didn't have long. I turned the dials to the frequency, I had written down all those weeks ago. The voice rang out, just like before. Its electric tone was difficult to hear with all this background noise, all I needed was a fucking grid coordinate. Whilst I was waiting I noticed a scrunched up map on the desk behind me, it was a map of Europe, not too detailed but I could work out a general route to Moscow with it. I had never felt so close to getting home until now.

The explosion brought me crashing down back into reality. It shook the building and the bones in my body. I rushed out onto the balcony area on top of the tower, a plume of smoke rose from just outside the supply compound, I don't know what caused it but everyone stood there in horror for a brief moment. Then everyone's survival instincts kicked back in. Scattered shouting could be heard from all around me.

'I need two men guarding the ladder, snipers on roof and people shooting from every fucking window!'

'They're coming!' From my vantage point I could see the swathes of infected sprinting towards us 500 meters down the runway. That was close enough, everyone opened up on them, disregarding all rules on conserving ammo and just going for the spray and pray option. I leant my gun on the guard rail for stability, rested my head on the stock and looked down the sights. I fired single shots in quick succession, scoring a few headshots within minutes. It paled in comparison to the total number of creeps heading towards us.

I've used up three cylinders now, seven more left. Some people were running low on ammo, I glanced to my side as I heard the "click click" of an empty gun, and the owners eyes opening wide in terror. The guy who had put himself in charge shouted down his walkie talkie, supposedly to the chopper pilot. 'We need ammo down here!' And so it came, the chopper hovered above the tower, a steel cable hanging from its underbelly carrying a large crate. It descended onto the upper section of the tower, where the men disconnected it and the chopper went on its way, probably to pick up more for the firestation roof.

I looked down at my watch; 25 minutes had passed since the ammo drop. The creeps just kept on coming; I'm down to three cylinders of ammunition now. The creeps were approaching from all angles now; they had surrounded the airfield, smothered the compound and were beginning to breach the firestation. A man ran out of the control room onto the balcony and cried out:

'They are starting to breach downstairs!' I hurried down there to aid to find them backing up the stairs, zombies slowly approaching like the high tide from the sea. The last man got out of my way and I fired down the stairs at the infected, they fell backwards, causing a domino effect and a pile up at the base of the stairs.

The horde was thinning, for how long I don't know, but only the occasional gunshot was fired, the bulk of the horde having been killed or incapacitated. I was still guarding the stairs, which was showing no signs of activity downstairs. That was when I heard the radio message, and those grid coordinates. My mind went from concentration to elation, I had done it! Then I felt a tug on my leg. The creep grabbed my foot and attempted to take a bite out of ankle. Startled, I kicked out with my other leg, knocking it away and giving me enough time to raise my weapon, I fired rounds into its skull until the magazine was empty, turning the head to mush. I checked the stairs for more, and fired my pistol down there just to be sure.

More gunfire could be heard outside, but coupled with the echo of cheering all across the compound. I stumbled out, still dazed by all the adrenaline rushing through me. We had done it. The survivors had held the line. A man came up to me and patted me on the arm, it was Andrei, specks of blood covered his clothes, but a jubilant smile on his face.

'Time to get out of this dump, wouldn't you say? Everyone is scattering now, the bulk of the horde has been dealt with, only small packs are left now. I can't believe we did it!'

'Neither can I.' I replied. I then looked down at my feet for some reason, a thought crossed my mind, I looked back up at the airfield. 'I guess this is goodbye Andrei, I got the radio working, and there is one last thing I have to do...' I shook Andrei's hand, and he climbed down the ladder, I hope he survives, I hope everyone does.


	11. Chapter 11

I sat down on the office chair, taking a long deep breath after a day of intense pressure. The airfield was silent and empty. I was ready to go, I would need some supplies but I've seen towns and factories up north that will probably contain supplies, it's the remnants of horde I am worried about deep down. There are 7 billion people on this Earth, if 50% of the world population has been afflicted with the virus, then mankind does not have enough bullets. This was a small victory after a series of major losses, presumably all across the world. I wasn't out of the water yet, and I have a long perilous journey ahead. Heck I don't know what I will find on the way, I may not make, but I need to try.

I looked at the radio, I set it to a general frequency I found in one of the books on the desk. Before I leave Chernarus I had to make one last broadcast.

'This is Nick Walden broadcasting from the Airfield. I have discovered a transmission from Moscow, where I believe what is left of the UN are taking in survivors and have established a safe zone. Tune your radio in the emergency broadcast system and you will hear it.'

I composed myself, recalling all that has happened in the past weeks.

'If my family is out there. If... you are out there Elena... Mark... Mother or Gary... Then I am calling out to you. I am safe, I don't know where you are, but if you are there then know this. I am going home. I am sorry I cannot stay, I have been alone. There are others though, and you may be with them now. You probably stand better chances than me if you stay here, I don't want you chasing me and putting your life on the line. I will see you again one day. This is me, Nick Walden, saying goodbye.'

**Day 31**** - Grozovoy Pass - 'And One for the Road'**

A long stretch of road and nothing but trees for miles. I walked slowly and casually, my machine gun lowered at the waist. A house now far behind me had provided me with a fresh set of clothes, a pair of jeans in my size (I have lost a lot of weight I think) and a leather jacket. A wash in a pond had cleansed me of any blood, and one unlucky rabbit was slung over my shoulder. This is it; a derelict border checkpoint was up ahead. An empty office, no bodies, no blood, nothing. Beside the road was a sign 'Покидаете Чехии. Добро пожаловать в Россию.' I assume it says something along the lines of 'Leaving Chernarus'. It felt like I was closing a chapter of my life, one fraught with danger, and a struggle to survive. But it isn't over for me. This is the last I will see of Chernarus however. I muttered 'Goodbye' and with a sigh of relief I carried on walking...


End file.
